Vampire Hunter T
by Trimalchio
Summary: Rome, vampires, and a little bit of love fantasy. What could possibly be better?


Vampire Hunter T  
  
". . .si velitis rem horriblem narrare possim." --MDP 7.45  
  
Many years ago, when I was still cutting my teeth as a slave, I found myself in the most peculiar of situations. While I should have been studying my history texts, there was something of a riot going on around me. I quickly placed Homer's account of the Peloponnesian Wars on my bed stand and dashed out to see what the commotion was.  
  
To my horror, I learned that my comfortable life had suddenly snagged and a hole had torn into my existence. Life could be so unfair sometimes. A fellow slave lay murdered and his mother was lamenting the life of her boy. The woman's cries pierced the ears of those around her, for she had lost her beloved son. She cradled the lifeless body of someone who was once my friend and bellowed in grief. I too felt tears creeping into the corners of my eyes and felt death breathing down the back of my tunic.  
  
The fine hairs on the whole of my body stood up as I inspected the earthly remains of my former friend. His pale skin and fine features were offset by the horrific evidence that his body had been robbed of his entrails. His blood was gone and his mother wailed.  
  
Most certainly, this was the solid evidence that my home had been struck by a gaggle of those women of the night. Witches, vampires, death personified, whatever you wish to call it had been visited upon us. Death, it had hunted me since before my soul had even been welcomed into my body. Was this a message? I got the sinking feeling that it had been searching for me and had taken my beautiful friend instead. I needed to think! Somehow, I would see an end to this situation and avenge my friend.  
  
I went back into the house to grab a bite to eat.  
  
While I pondered and listened to continued outpouring of sadness on behalf of the rest of the family, I busily consumed a bit of sweet cake dipped in lamp oil. As I savored my snack, a whiff of white caught in the corner of my eye. Death be damned!  
  
Staying with us was a man whose height I had never seen matched. Our guest was up and about trying to give a name to the great noise that had taken him away from whatever he was doing. He was going to keep the witches from doubling back to take me on my inevitable journey to the underworld.  
  
Our boarder, was the bravest of men, and had no fear of the nocturnal beasts which prey on the innocent. I on the other hand have no qualms about acknowledging my very real fear of Death's hands wrapping around my tender young throat.  
  
Have you ever sat down and thought about how every man must face death, and that it is just as uninvited as life ever was? Nobody ever asks to be born, yet everyone tries so hard not to die. That night, my goal in life was to remain breathing. Feral screams rang out in the darkness, and our guest sprang into action, his sword in his trained hand, waiting for the blood-sucking hags to reveal their hideous selves to the man who would carve out their hearts! I saw his muscles tense up, taught beneath a light sheen of fright-induced sweat.  
  
Laments and screams tortured my mind and upset my stomach. Oh, when would this horror be over? Would I find that I had met my eventual fate, or that I had cheated my one-way passage into the underworld once more?  
  
Such things I saw that night, I have never had visited upon my eyes again. The She-Monster swooped from out of the ebony nothingness.  
  
She was sniffing about, a hound with her nose to the dirt seeking blood, searching out for more carnage. Stealing the lives of the young was how she lasted from day to day. Her lust for the souls of pretty young boys had her on a twisted path leading right into my belly. Dressed in rags, wailing like a wolf, and flailing her tangled locks, she ran toward that poor mother who still cradled her son.  
  
True humans are incapable of emitting the sounds that this creature inflicted upon our poor ears. As she continued to scream, she whirled in my direction, as I had been stupid enough to have emerged from the house again. I wrapped my hands about the end of my tunic and closed my eyes, certain that I was able to take it. Rome would not miss just one slave. . .  
  
Another terrifying scream rocked my confidence in dying.  
  
My sword-wielding savior was in a rage. "I do this for you Trimalchio!" He screamed this as he ran his sword through the hag's chest and dropped her carcass to the ground.  
  
One life was spared while another extinguished like a campfire happened upon by the rain.  
  
I looked up from the sordid heap at my feet at a pair of beautiful eyes set in a face so ruggedly dashing that I shall never forget my pain at seeing him as dawn broke.  
  
That creature had cursed him. He had borne the brunt of a horror that was once again supposed to have been visited upon myself. First my friend, then my Master's guest. Alas! It was I who was supposed to die that night!  
  
For three days after the visit of the vampire-witch, my new friend lay bedridden. His body was battered and bruised as though he had been flogged for some treacherous deed. His mind took leave of his body as well. Maximus Decimus Meridus died, delirious and in unforgivable pain.  
  
Since then, I have awaited her wrath.  
  
She waits for me, just as I wait for her. She will come into my grand house, already designed for her arrival. . . Like a whiff of smoke, she will materialize above me as my wife Fortunata and I lie sleeping and finally claim me as her prize.  
  
My status and wealth will not keep me from Death, though such things have made my wait through mortality much more tolerable, especially since I no longer find myself sampling the oil from the lamps, though it may still make a tasty snack. I surround myself in nothing but the best, yet every waking moment, I am still haunted by that night and knowing that the vampire awaits. 


End file.
